Jack the Ripper
by Not much a poet
Summary: I won't say it here. It's not that is bad or anything, it's just that I hve a summary in the chapters list. By the way, the Jack the Ripper facts ARE very true. I have a book to prove it.
1. Authors notes

**Jack the Ripper**

**Author's notes**

**As usual, don't sue, as I own nothing of Red eye.**

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**If you are reading this at any time of which I should be writing something else, I'm sorry. I just had to write this one, fresh off the press.**

**As the title suggests, this story if about Jack the Ripper. In Red eye, Jackson keeps throwing us hints that he is in some way connected to Jack the Ripper, but never really gives us a clear answer. This is the reason that I am writing this. **

**It has a cross over through it (Red eye, Batman Begins, and certain elements of From Hell). We see Jonathan Crane as the detective on the Ripper's tail, Jackson as the Ripper, and Lisa as the woman that decides to help Crane. I know that it may seem weird, but really, this fic just _has_ to be written. It is set in the late-mid- eighteenth century. **

**If you have any comments that you wish to make, feel free to do so in the reviews section. They are of good use to me and my writing, so keep them coming.**


	2. Prologue

**Prologue**

**London, 1870**

It was one of those nights that were feared by most clear-thinking people. The clouds coated the hell-hole of a sky, and a heavy mist hung about the streets like a child in distress. Most people were safe inside their homes, so there was little in the way of noise or life. The only sorts of any living beings were either animals, drunks and the odd prostitute. That night, there was one of those women on the streets, coming back from where she was 'needed'. She was walking through the back alleys, as she knew that this was quicker and (**supposedly**) safer than having an encounter with the drunks.

It was cold. She wrapped her shawl around her arms tighter, and hurried along. It was one of those sorts of cold that made you wonder if it would snow. To give it its 'cherry-on-top', the air was deadly silent. She just hoped that she was lucky enough to be walking safely (or rather, _hurrying _safely). She soon came to the alley behind her home. At last, she thought.

'Excuse me, Miss…' came a voice from behind her. She was about to unlock her door, but she decided to be polite and see what the voice wanted. She could tell from its tone that it was a male. She smiled sweetly, turning her head to face him. As she was about to ask what he wanted, he grabbed her by the throat, forcing her against the brick wall. She gasped for air, whilst trying to scream for help. It was no use, though. All that came out was a wheeze. When she had calmed down (knowing that no one would hear her), she stopped thrashing. Instead, she just watched him. He was dressed in a black trench coat, and he wore a black hat that covered his eyes with a shadow. When she _did_catch a glimpse of them, he saw two blue, almost transparent, eyes. The next thing that she knew was that he was taking something out of his pocket. She looked up from his pocket and into his face. He bore a maniacs grin. She was confused. Everything seemed to be happening so fast.

He held the item up to her. It was a silver-coloured object. On closer inspection, it turned out to be a knife! The blade shone in the dim light of a far-off street lamp. Her eyes lit up with fear. He could see that, but he continued. What he continued with happened too fast for her to try and stop. He quickly plunged the knife into her slender throat and slid the remainder of it across the rest of her neck, making a straight, yet very bloody, cut. The blood oozed from the wound like an ocean tide on a beach.

He let go of her with a jerk of his arm. She dropped to the floor like the dead woman that she now was. This was yet another addition to the Ripper's collection. He left as quickly and as calmly as he had appeared.


	3. Chapter 1: The case

**Chapter 1**

The next morning came. Jonathan Crane woke up. It was just after dawn; far too early for someone who might be asked to work the nightshift at any time. He sat up and slid his legs around the side of his bed. He gathered his eyes with his fingers, as he was clearly still half asleep. The thing was, was that ever since he had started his new case, he hadn't been able to sleep much, as his mind was plagued with the horrors of it, and of what he was to do about it.

Jonathan was a detective. He liked his job, as it was rather interesting for him. Lately though, Interesting was just one of the words to describe it. Another would be 'shocking' or even just plain 'creepy'. The new case that he was working on was one that seemed to go on forever. It was of the infamous serial killer, 'Jack the Ripper'. Why a man would go around slaughtering defenceless women was beyond Crane. The next question was 'was the killer even a man?' It might even be a woman. Then, why would a _woman_ go around killing? As you can see, life for him at present wasn't particularly him. It was also no surprise that he didn't have much of a social life. In fact, this new case had almost destroyed _all_ of his life. The questions were all that he could think of.

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Upon arriving, Jonathan sat down at his desk. He knew that there would be a pile of papers for him. Sure enough, they soon arrived. He picked up the first piece and started to examine it. What he was something truly horrifying; it was the corpse of a dead woman, her neck had been slit and her dress was particularly red. This was possibly because of the fact that her entire body was cushioned in a thick mat of blood on the ground. He turned the picture over, looking for some sort of explanation. He read the message;

_Female, around the age of 23, photograph taken the morning after the alleged murder._

_9th of January, 1870_

That was only last night. By the looks of things, the picture was taken rather early in the morning, possibly a few hours before he had woken up. Poor woman, he thought. He knew that society look rather poorly upon prostitution, but even so. No woman deserved to be treated in that manner. If the 'Ripper' was ever caught, Crane thought that that should be his punishment; having done to him what he had done to those women. He sighed, putting the paper back onto the desk and going for another. It simply told him what he had to do that day; find out the same answers as everyday. He looked around at the others, working on their own assignments. They had it so easy, compared to him. He got up and went to given permission to go out to investigate. He left with the usual expression painted on his face; an unhopeful look.

**Sorry about the chapter being so short. I'm just dividing this fic up like it's in real time, if you see what I mean. This goes for all chapters.**


	4. Chapter 2: Same day as every day

**Chapter 2**

What he came to first was a small alley. He had been told to investigate there first, as that was where the most recent murder had been committed. The murder was the one that linked to the photograph that he had been given. It was the same woman, the same alley, and the same crime.

He walked down the cobbled path, his steps light and silent. He thought, in the back of his mind, that if he hadn't become a member of 'good' society, he might as well have become the Ripper. He had the right kind of clear thinking and the right kind of movement. Enough on that, though. When he came to the scene of the crime, he saw the blood. It had dried quiet a bit, but some areas were still wet. It was a brownish-red colour now, filling the space of at least five feet, and at most, six. It seemed to have stayed in the same span of the woman that it had coffined. She had been removed, probably to be examined. He squatted down to take to take a closer look. He took out his notebook and started to take notes. There wasn't a lot to put, since the victim had gone. After a few minutes, he got up, put the book and pen away, and went to his next destination.

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He pushed open the doors of the post-mortem room at the hospital. The place was very white. It was as it should be, but Jonathan thought that it was _too_ white. Too clean for somewhere that should be cutting open bodies and leaving bloody imprints here, there and everywhere. There was a table in the middle of the room, and three of the walls were, in fact, stores for the bodies. The staff was busy. They were working on a new carcass. A man walked towards him.

'Good morning, Mr. Crane. I trust that you are here to investigate?' Jonathan was asked by him, as he shook his hand.

'Yes, unfortunately. Another 'Ripper' case, I've been told…'

'Indeed. I hope they catch him soon. Any more of this, and I think that some of us might even quit our jobs. The butchery on some of them is incredible!'

Jonathan smiled, as he walked past the man and towards the table. He saw that it was the same woman laying there as it had been in the photograph. She had all the correct wounds, and had the same dress and face. All of the injuries were the same; a heavy slit across the throat, and they were all done to prostitutes. As he moved back (allowing the staff to carry on), he took his notes. This time, they were slightly longer than they had been with the location.

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Later that day, he had been asked to work the night shift, as I had said before. He knew that he was going to be tired, but what else could he do? He knew that he wouldn't sleep otherwise, so why not just put his thinking time to good use?

The work that he got that night was having to write a report on what he had found out that day. What he wrote was basically the same as he had always done with them; prostitute, slit throat, bloody grave. He thought about what the man at the hospital had said to him about quitting his job. Jonathan thought that this was a pretty good idea for him. Any more of the 'Ripper', and it would be the end of his career for sure. It was boring, but he knew that he wouldn't find the culprit easily.


	5. Chapter 3: Interview with a prostitute

**Chapter 3**

One night came and went. This was how most things happened. Unfortunately, the Ripper case wasn't one of them. Jonathan went back to work after noon (the rest of the day, he had spent sleeping off the nigh shift). He was still at his desk, as he didn't have any more incidents to investigate. He was writing up the rest of the report that he had been unable to finish that earlier night. He had just finished, when one of the chiefs came up to him.

'Crane, there's someone her to see you' he said. Jonathan didn't quite know what to say; as I have said before, he didn't lead much of a social life.

Sitting up straight, he waited for the person. The chief had gone to get them from the reception area of the station. It took him about three minutes. Why it took that long, he didn't know. When the chief and Crane's visitor arrived, Jonathan was quickly clearing his desk a little. The person sat down in the chair on the opposite e side of the desk. She (yes, it was a woman), sat up straight and her hands were placed neatly in her lap. She was pretty, green eyes and auburn curly hair. Her skin was pale, but radiant. What am I saying? It sounds like I'm writing a romance fic, doesn't it? The thing was, Jonathan couldn't help but notice these things. She was in a reddish-brown dress, like the colour that you would associate with autumn. She had around her arms a sash.

'Yes Miss, what can I do for you?' he asked, noticing that he still hadn't talked; only gawped.

Yes, I'm here about the Ripper…' she replied. He could see in her eyes that it wasn't going to be a cheerful conversation.

'What is it exactly that you would like to say about him?'

'The last victim that he took, well… she was my best friend. I really don't know what to do…'

Jonathan didn't know what to do either.

'Okay, so…What about her. I sorry, I'm not trying to sound as if she isn't important. I just need to know what I should do…' he said.

'I don't know. I don't even know if you can do anything. It might even be me, somehow…'

'What do you mean by that?'

'I don't know. I may know something that will help you catch him… I'm sorry if this is waiting your time…'

'No, not at all. So, what do you know?'

'Only some things about my sister…'

'It might help, yes'

'I don't know, maybe he has something against prostates…If that's the case, I can play bait if it's any use…'


	6. Chapter 4: A new 'officer' on the case

**Chapter 4**

It was just what he wanted; something that could bring the Ripper down once and for all. It would be the end of the case, Jonathan's burdens, and the continuation of the horrific carnage that had plagued him. But then Crane had another thought; this woman was going to be a target. He hated to see a woman cry, let alone become something's victim. If he let her do it, if she _did_ become another piece of the Ripper's sick pleasure, it would not only give Crane a bad reputation, but also another reason for suicide.

'I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that…' he said, pushing his chair back and getting up.

'And why not? Without my sister, I have every right to be bait. Whether I go or not doesn't matter! Besides, without her, I don't have a lot else, social wise…' she argued.

'For one thing, it's police policy. We can't endanger the lives that we are here to protect. Anyways, you're young, pretty; you can rebuild your life!'

'With what? There isn't any pieces worth picking back up…' she shot back, her standing also and getting ready to leave. She turned her back and started to head back towards the main entrance. Jonathan escorted her outside, as they walked down the steps to the pavement.

'You know, 'Jack' doesn't just destroy the people he gets. Lives of others that knew the person are lost as well. Just think yourself lucky that he hasn't destroyed your life!' she spat, without turning to face him.

When she got to the bottom of the steps, she walked up the street. What she had said hurt him. He ran after her and caught her arm. She jumped out of pure fright. For all she knew, that hand could have been the Ripper's.

'Don't you dare say that! No, he hasn't killed anyone that I know well, but like you, he _has _destroyed most of my sanity. You know, following his every move isn't that pretty!' he got her with.

She didn't reply. She just stared at him, realising what she had done.

'Look, you want your life back and so do I. But if you get murdered, don't blame me as a last request. Just… keep this between you and me, okay?' he said quietly, hoping not to be heard by anyone but her.

'I thought it was against your policy...?' she relied, trying to sound cocky.

'Exactly…'


	7. Chapter 5: the job

**Chapter 5**

Crane stood in an alley. It was one of those sorts that would always be home to a few drunks, so it was perfect to hide from the Ripper's eyes that way. He stood in the shadows; mist hanging about the streets like it was snow. No moon was out that night. Then, at about midnight, or so, she came walking past Crane's hiding place. Miss Reisert knew where he was, but made no move or action to suggest it. He did the same; knew where she was, but didn't act upon it. She acted oblivious and he kept in secret. She was dressed in a bright red dress, with spaghetti straps, a red gossamer shawl across her arms, and her curls hung elegantly across her shoulders. He had to admit, she looked even more stunning than usual, but he still knew that she was both dressed as a prostitute, and that she had a job to do (as did he). This was strictly business. He had seen this sort of sight many times before, so going hard was not an option. Besides, this time shouldn't be any different from usual, should it? The thing that he had to do right now was to keep an eye on her and keep her safe. Although he didn't know her _that_ well, his job wouldn't allow for him to be at the scene of a crime when it was committed. He would kiss his job goodbye. Not a bad thing at this time, but it would also give him a bad name, placing him even further down the social food chain. Besides, he _was_ growing rather fond of her. She had put her life on the line for the sake of others (and revenge). And she _was_ beautiful…

She walked slowly down the street. There was no one else (besides those two) in the street for at least five minutes. When someone _did _appear, he walked at the same pace as she did. He was about a yard away when she first noticed him. She didn't know if it was her target or not, but she knew that it wasn't like her normally to stick around to find out. Her heart pounded as he came closer. Nearer and nearer he came to her. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion for her; it was like she was some sort of sacrifice for some sick cult, or something. She knew that she was a goner, so she started to count her blessings in her head and rid herself of all the evil thoughts that had swirled through her mind in past years. She forgot about revenge, anger, lust, that sort of thing.

The whole time, Jonathan watched her. He saw the fear in her eyes, and at one point, thought that he would lose control of himself and rush out to help her. He got rid of this thought quickly, but soon started to regret his decision. As soon as he saw the other someone, he stopped his mushy feelings for her and his heart sank. Although he would do everything that he could to protect her, he wasn't exactly your average body-builder. By the way that his coat hung on him, Crane suspected the other man to be quite a bit stronger than he was.

Closer and closer the figure came to her and she knew that she looked scared; she was too terrified _not_ to look it. When he was directly next to her, he was first facing forward, but then, he swiftly turned to face her, his hat across his face, shadowing it. His hand came up in a flash. Before she knew what was going on, he single-handedly grabbed her neck and pushed her into a nearby alley (unfortunately, it wasn't Crane's). The movement of both the head and the hand was too fast for Lisa to fight back, let alone dodge. His grip was like a vice. She couldn't move, she couldn't cry for help, and she could hardly breathe.


	8. Chapter 6: The deserter

**Chapter 6**

**Lisa**

That bastard, she thought to herself. I thought he was supposed to be protecting me!

Thousands upon thousands of curses swirled around her head. That is, if she ever reached that mark. His grip was getting tighter and tighter by the second, and she was losing consciousness at the same rate. A few more minutes, and she would be done for. How could she have ever trusted that guy? How could she have ever trusted one of 'them'? Her brother had been taken into jail, and before the sister died, Lisa had lost all faith and hope in the police. All that they had done was destroy her life.

Was this some sort of joke? The sick bastard. If she ever got out of this, she would kill him. If this was his sort of entertainment, she would…She would……………….. Argh, his hands are like ice! No, his hand is like cold hard steel! No matter, it won't be long until it stops, one way of another…………………

**Crane**

He had to do something! But what? Mr. Body builder over there was making quick use of her. But if he didn't act soon, he would be finished even before Crane had got there!

Jonathan dug his hands in his pockets, out of sheer disappointment, not just for his failing job, but for himself not helping a woman. The air was cold outside, so it was a nice change when his hands were in his pockets. They were empty, so they were just like gloves. All except the one on his right. There was something cold in it. With a disapproving sigh, he got out what it was. As he picked it up, his fingers fell upon some sort of trigger. _Now _he knew what it was!

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Lisa was dangling helplessly from the man's grasp. She was pretty much out of it when Jonathan was just on the other side of the wall. He was tempted to just shoot the bastard, but what would happen then? What would be the conciquences? He decided to just be calm and do something else.

In the meantime, 'Jack' was still holding her, but with his other hand, he got something from one of his pockets. He got it out and showed it to her for a second, just so she knew what was going on. She saw it, but didn't panic. For one, she already knew what he was going to do. The other reason was because she just didn't have the energy. Besides, Crane wasn't going to help her.

Jonathan was losing his patience. He had decided to wait until he knew for sure that this was their man. Jack rested the blade on her neck, teasing her and planning to take her by surprise. He felt that he always enjoyed it more if his victim was terrified at her time of death. That way, the corpse would look more interesting. But enough was enough. She wasn't going to scream or anything. At least this way, the body might give the police the wrong idea, that it might have been someone else committing the crime. He was about to get her when he heard a sudden and loud noise. It was a gun-shot. By the sounds of it, it was fairly close. He didn't want to take any chances, so, with a growl, he let her flop to the ground and took of. Jonathan hid in the shadows until Jack was out of site.


	9. Chapter 7: Arguments

'You hate me, don't you?' Lisa's first words were.

Jonathan looked up.

'No! why would you think that?' he replied.

She said nothing, only looked the other way and spread a look of grimace onto her face. At least he didn't leave her for dead.

They were both back at the police station. No one was there (mainly due to fact that it was the middle of the night), so it was safe for them to talk freely. They sat at his desk as they had done when they first met each other; he was behind it, she was in front. As he wrote his observations (and whatnot) down as a report, she just looked out of a distant window. She would have walked up to it, but she didn't for a number of reasons. One was because she was still half exausted from the attack. Another was because she liked to have a good argument, once in a while.

But that became boring. There was no moon, and no stars. Not even people were out at this time of night. The drunks were now either sleeping, or had gone back into the pub. Lisa decided to see what work Jonathan actually did here. She watched his pen curve and move down the paper. Yes, she was bored. She puffed out a sigh to make him notice her. And yes he did. He looked up.

'Look, just go home and get some rest. You're bored and I have something I have to do…' he told her.

'Nope. After that scare that you gave me, I'm not going out _there_ at night…'

He smiled and shook his head.

'He only attacks at a certain time. You're fine…' he reassured her.

'I don't care. I'm not leaving until _you_ leave…'

He looked up from his paper. She _said_ that she wanted to play bait. He just granted her wish.

'So where did that 'I don't care about my life' stuff come from?' he asked, with a slight sneer.

She blushed. One reason was because she was the cause of her own downfall. The second was because she had never seen him look at her like that before. It scared her because that was the same look that Jack had given her.

'As I said, you should get some rest. If he doesn't get you physically, he'll get you mentally…' he advised, now with his normal face. She thought about it for a moment before giving her answer;

'No. Not just yet…'

'Suit yourself. There's nothing that you can do, though…'

'A bit like when I was harassed…' she shot at him, just to be back on top.

He looked up again.

'What could I do? What if I'd have got there, he would have seen me, and he might have made quick work of you!' he argued.

She hadn't thought of that.

He put his pen down and relaxed in his chair, arms crossed.

'Don't worry about him. I'll get to the bottom of this. You just carry on with whatever you do normally…' he said.

'Meaning?'

'Meaning that I'll do the rest of the case…'

'In other words, you don't need me anymore'

'Pretty much' he just managed to say. He didn't want her to go, but what was the point of keeping her around? If she wasn't in any danger, she was arguing with him. He didn't want either of those things.

Neither did Lisa. She didn't want to go. She wanted to stay and get to the bottom of catching her sister's murderer. In reality, that was only the first reason. She was just trying to kid herself that it was the only one.

She got up from her chair and turned to make her way out of the door. He got up also, to see her out. The door was locked, anyway. It seemed to happen in slow-motion for both of them. Neither wanted her to leave. Neither wanted the other to be out of their lives, but it was for the best. Nothing could be done. They finally reach the door. He unlocked it for her, heart heavy. He opened it and she stepped past him. He just stood at the side, not making any attempt to move towards her. So this was it. The potential Mrs. Crane was walking out of his life forever. It was the worst feeling ever.

She was at the bottom of the steps, when she turned to face him, as if to say goodbye. She then (silently) rushed up them again, as if she had forgotten something. He was about to ask her what was wrong, when she silenced him with her index finger. He wondered what the hell was going on. She held the side of his face and kissed him lightly. She pulled back afterwards. She smiled and walked back down, neither saying a word.


	10. Chapter 8: Sleep

Jonathan couldn't sleep that night. He had returned home and had decided to come into work later than usual (possibly mid-afternoon). The reason for him not sleeping was nothing out of the ordinary, just the same thing as every night; the sick bastard that called himself 'Jack'. Whether or not he had given himself the rest of the title or not was a complete anonymity. It could have just been the public, so Jon decided not to go any further into it. Besides, that encounter earlier that night had knocked most of his energy out of him (and possibly given him yet another bad memory to add to the collection). What would have happened if he hadn't taken any action? What would the memory be in _that _case? Thankfully, he fell asleep before he could even start to imagine it.

Sometimes, he liked the fact that he didn't sleep; the dreams that he usually had were grotesque, often too much for even him. Blood ruled his sleeping mind like it was a Steven King novel. The corpses of the victims always seemed to pop up when he least expected it, like they were telling him to wake up and just get on with the damn job. They plagued his mind, night and day, like they were locusts in Egypt. But back on track, the dreams (or rather nightmares) that he was now having answered his questions that he had been debating with before he slept. He dreamt of how Jack had decapitated her. She lived, so he gave her the 'hung, drawn and quartered' treatment. The whole time, she screamed and writhed in agony, but Jonathan couldn't do a thing to stop it. It was like he was frozen. Seeing her like this made him feel like this was some sort of punishment that only Hell could give you (like Prometheus).

He had never, in all the time that he could remember, woken up so fast. After a few minutes to regain himself, he sat up, face buried in his hands and elbows in his lap. He was completely drenched in sweat and couldn't tell if he was crying or not. Either way, he felt like he was dying inside. But he really didn't care, just as long as the nightmare was over. Then, when he was playing it over again in his head, he remembered something that he should never have forgotten (which he cursed himself for doing); Lisa. Why did he care so much about her? Did he, for lack of a better term, have feelings for her? Surely, he wasn't in love with her, was he? Besides, this was coming from Jonathan Crane, also known as a social no one. He had his job to thank for that. Jonathan didn't get girlfriends, he just had his work. But why did she kiss him? Surely _she _wasn't in love with _him_? That, again, was all due to his job. Finally something good had come out of it!

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He went into work earlier than he expected, about midday. He was in a pretty good mood (having slept and the good thought about Lisa), so he decided not to spoil his chance and get on with some work. Things were a little different, though. There had been no more killings, about a quarter of the staff were away, but most importantly to him, no Lisa. Maybe it was for the best. If she had have stayed with him, she would now have an even greater chance of getting herself murdered (the 'Ripper' always finished off his victims, one way or another). Throwing herself in his face would just be plain stupid. Or would she? She said that she didn't care about her life, and that she now had nothing to live for. Shit, he thought to himself. He had stopped Jack from getting her, but now (with no one to help her), would she just hope that someone came up and helped her? It was an unlikely chance, but still a chance that she would take.

He thought about this all day. If he didn't go to help her, she would be worm food. If he left work to help her, he would have to come up with an excuse that he would be expected to carry out. He couldn't go when he was supposed to be working. So it was a good thing that jack only struck in the dark.


	11. Chapter 9: After sunset

**A/N: This contains some information that is both interesting _and _slightly disgusting, but don't worry. It isn't _that _bad. Anyways, I would prefer it if you didn't diss me for this in any reviews that may come in.**

Jonathan Crane had never left work so swiftly in all his life. Everyone noticed it, but then again, they all knew that the case would get to him sooner or later. They just thought that he had finally cracked, so their little spot of confusion soon subsided. Besides, they didn't have to know that he was just going to save the woman that he loved from a potential early death.

No, Lisa wasn't so brainless as to throw herself into possible danger, but yes, she _was_ out after dark (or, after dusk, anyways). She, like many women, was a sucker for a child in distress. She had heard a baby crying. Now, you would have thought that the mother would have tended to it, but the crying kept ringing on, and it was no longer bearable for Lisa. Plus the fact that this was 19th century London, and the fact that this was Whitechapel, the mother of all evil (or, so some people said). For all she knew, that child could be in a fire, drowning, anything! If she didn't help it sooner or later, she would only have herself to blame.

Anyways, so Lisa was walking down a few alleys after dark, tempting Death and dealing with her own near-guilt. Jonathan was rushing towards her house to see if she was there, and the crying kept going on. As she got closer to the sound, she wondered all of the possible fates of it. This only left her with a depressed mind, so she quickly got all her feelings out of her head. When she finally became conscious of where she was, she stood at a dead end. When she realised her situation, she wondered if it was a good idea to turn around, or not. But, like all things, she had to make a decision. Her answer was to go back the way that she came, because she had no where to go in her current circumstances.

Bad move, though. Before she could do this, she heard a familiar voice. She knew that if she turned, she would see those same cold eyes, that same cruel smile, it would be him.

'I thought I'd catch you here…' he said, so quietly that only she heard it.

'Why would you think that?' she asked, deliberately no turning around.

'Women are drawn to crying children' he replied, his voice still dark like the night that it was.

'But there _is _no child' she said.

'Exactly. And if you'd turn around, I'd show you what it was that was making the noise…'

'I won't… Wait a minute, you set a _trap_!' she cried. She wasn't going to face him on any circumstances. She hated the way that he acted, she hated the way that he spoke, and she hated the way that he looked…

It was too late for her, though. He was determined to see her face. He was going to show her the noise-maker, and she wasn't going to like it. He would have let it lie and just have killed the bitch, but he oh-so loved the way that the whores' faces looked when they were both terrified and disgusted. He had no choice, but to spin her round himself. As his iron-like hands came across her shoulders, she felt a chill waft through her entire body. She also knew that she was going to look, once again, into the face of her sister's killer. It was all too much the first time, what makes the second any better? When she was facing his direction, she would have been looking at him, but she had closed her eyes. This just made him annoyed.

'Lisa, look at me!' he spat, still for her ears only. As he said those words, he used one of his hands to prop her chin up, the other still firmly on her left arm.

If she didn't do as he said, she might end up like the last victim (aside from her sister) that he had killed (the victim being Mary-Jane Kelly. Her body had been cut to shreds, was unrecognisable, and the heart had been taken). So, she opened her emerald-coloured eyes, and stared into his equally dazzling ones. His were a beautiful, yet cold, blue (much like Jonathan's). After a few moments, she closed them again and started to weep. Truth be told, he didn't like seeing a woman cry, but there was the odd occasion that it happened. When it did, he would try and 'make it better'. If the woman was pretty, he would kiss her, and Lisa was one of the pretty ones. When he had made his mind up, she got a bit of a shock. She opened her eyes, mid-kiss, and saw that his eyes were closed. His lips were so soft that she couldn't pull away, even if most nerves in her body were telling her to do so. She knew that it was wrong, but she couldn't stop herself.

When they had finished, she had stopped crying. As he pulled away, she started to question herself why she had done it. As for him, he was going to take the next action. He held up the noise-maker to her, and she could only bring her hands to her mouth in sheer repulsion of the thing. It was a rabbit. It seemed to be in pain, but that didn't both him.


	12. Chapter 10: Lost

Jonathan raced through the streets of Whitechapel. How could he have been so stupid? Why now, why him, why Lisa? She was a good person, and now, if he didn't find her, she would end up being a report, and another part of Jack's grotesque game. He had been through nearly every street, when he came to Buckle Street. If Jack was going to strike, there was a fair chance that this would be the place (or somewhere in that area). Jonathan was getting out of breath, but he had to keep going; Lisa's life was on the line. He had got her into this mess, so he had to bring her out of it.

The air was growing colder by the minute, the sky was growing darker, and the sounds that he could hear were those like screams. He kept telling himself that it was just the wind, but it was no good. In the back of his mind, the lingering picture of her death method kept haunting him, like the ghost that would get children on this type of night. No, you couldn't even call it a night, because it was now the very earliest minutes of the morning. He always hated to be out at night, but with a life on the line, it was all the more terrifying. He ran through the streets, mentally reciting each of their names, until he came to Colchester Street. After this, it would be Buckle Street. He was getting closer. He knew that it was a matter of will he-won't he luck right now. Just pure luck. He hoped with every ounce of himself that Lady Luck was on his side.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

At his destination, sure enough, there she was, with Jack (and the rabbit, which had now been thrown to the floor). Well, it wasn't exactly the street, but it was an alleyway just beside it.

Lisa really didn't know what to think. She couldn't. Here she was, having a sick staring contest with Death, and she was lip-lock with her potential murderer. This was the man that had murdered six women (five of which had been advertised more than the last, which was her sister). By the end of all of this, it would probably be seven, but she really couldn't care less. She knew that she was insane thinking this, but it didn't really bother her. Besides, she could help but think that Jack looked so much like Jonathan. They both had the same blue eyes, the same high cheek bones, the same … well, everything! This was like a bolder Crane (except the fact that this was also psychopathic).

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

**Crane**

_Colchester Street… Buckle Street! Here we are_, he thought to himself. He reached into his pocket and took out his little save-it-for-a-rainy-day object; his handgun. If Jack was there, this time, Jon was going to give him what was coming to him. He wasn't going to let some bastard just take Lisa's life for his own bizarre reasons. Not _his _Lisa. He reached Buckle Street, but then saw that they weren't there. _Shit_, he muttered to himself. Right now, Jonathan was pretty vexed. Then he saw the alley way. They _had _to be there. Where else would they be?

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Lisa stood there for a moment to catch her breath. Unless he suddenly turned on her, there was no way that she was going to leave here for the next ten minutes, or so. At first, jack had seemed to have kissed her just to shut her up, but now, he was just coming back for more. When he had done this again, she didn't resist (like she had dine the last five times, or so). She just basked in the moment, fully enjoying herself. Then she saw it, the very thing that tore her away from him; Jonathan. He was just standing there, and by the looks of things, wasn't too happy. He seemed confused, as well. Oh well, it wasn't like he wanted her, anyways. But at the same time, Lisa, Jack and Jon just stared at one another, all confused and not knowing what was to follow.


	13. Chapter 11: Why?

They just sat there. Neither talked to the other, it was just a dead atmosphere that they were in.

Jonathan had made the first move back at Buckle Street. He took Lisa by the arm, and dragged her back to the police station (well, 'dragged' was not exactly how he took her, but you get the picture). He was really pissed off now. He was confused, but mostly pissed off. He had risked everything for this girl, and this was how she repaid him? It had been a long time since he was in a relationship, but he was sure that this wasn't the way to go about it. As for Lisa, well, she was mortified. Confused at what to do next, confused why Jack had done that, pissed off that Jonathan was pissed off, and thougherly humiliated.

'Ow, get off of me!' she cried, trying to break free. He didn't. He only let go of her when they were at his destination. He let go of her, pulled out two chairs, plonked her in one, and sat down at the other. Without saying a word, he reached into one of the drawers in his desk, and pulled out a tin box and a matchbox. He took out a cigarette from the metal container, and he lit a match with the matchbox. Lisa just sat there, looking at her hands that were currently in her lap. Taking a puff, Jon then exhaled a grey cloud.

'You smoke?' Lisa finally asked, thinking that she knew the answer. This was only an ice-breaker, since this was now getting rather scary.

Jonathan said nothing. He simply put it in his mouth again, inhaled, exhaled. After a few minutes, he finally spoke;

'You know, I don't see why you would do that… I thought that you were normal!' as if he was a teacher talking to a badly behaved pupil.

'Huh?'

'I didn't know that you were a prostitute… A real one, I mean…'

'I am _not_!' she spat.

He simply smirked at this.

'What?' she asked, sounding quite vexed.

'Then why kiss him?'

'Because…' she started. Truth be told, she didn't really know why she did it. Maybe it was the fact that he looked so much like Jonathan. Maybe it was some sort of thrill. But above all that, she didn't know.

'Because your just a common whore, that's what!' he shouted, standing up with his palms flat on the desk. Lisa was taken a bit aback by this. For one thing, she had never seen him like this. She put her left elbow on the desk, and put her face into her hand. Jon then noticed her back heaving. He came round to her side and saw that she was sobbing.

'Leave me alone…' she whimpered, yet somehow very bleakly.

Jonathan laid a hand on her shoulder.

'After my sister died, I came her because there wasn't anything else in my life. Then I met you. You acted like a friend to me, no, a brother… Then you go and do this…' She snivelled.

'I'm sorry. I just, well, just how you were behaving… '

'Yeah…' she replied.

She stood up.

'I'll be seeing you…' she said.

'Where are you going?' he asked.

'There isn't anything left for me to do. You said so yourself…'

'No, no… I didn't mean it like that…' he cautioned her, feeling guilty.

'Then what is there?'

He took a moment to think.

'The rest of you life? I don't know, if you can't take this part of the world, move to somewhere else!' he finally resorted.

'No' she simply replied.

'Lisa… Don't do anything stupid…' he warned her, watching her make for the door.

'Why not? There's nothing else to do…'

'Yes there is…'

'What?

He took a deep breath.

'Well, for starters, you can help me finish this case…'

'And then what? And what about me listening to your constant shouting and scolding?'

'I won't. I promise.'

'You broke that promise…'

'When? I never said anything about promising in the first place!'

'Yes you did. Well, you acted like you did…'

'I won't, I promise!' he shouted, again.

'See, there you go again!'

'Lisa…'

'What?'

'I only do this to protect you…' he said, in what came out as a loud whisper.

'From what? And why?'

'You know what from!'

'Why then?' she pressured him, hands on her hips.

'Because…' he began.

'Because what? If you don't have a valid reason, I don't have a valid reason to live!'

'Because love you!' He blurted out.

She just stood there. She didn't move from her position, she just stood looking at him, her eyes wide. Jonathan sat there, but he had turned his head away from her, not wanting to see her reaction. He had a hurt and embarrassed look on his face.

'Would you…mind repeating…that…?' she asked quietly, her expression now somewhat sympathizing

'You see! That's exactly what I tried to keep from you! I knew it would never work, so why should I give you the burden?' He exclaimed.

Lisa stayed silent for a minute. They were now both stood up.

'Just… Say it again…' She calmly whispered.

'Say what?'

'What you said before…'

Jonathan stayed silent now. He didn't want to say it again; he didn't even think that he would have done in the first place. Not after what had happened before with the other one. He sat down again.

'I love you…' he quietly said, his head turned to the side once again. Lisa nearly didn't catch what he had said, but she could just hear it. The room was silent for a period of time that seemed like an eternity for them both. Jon was afraid of what she would say (or do), and Lisa didn't really know what to say. She could see that he was hurt by his own words, but how (and what) would she say something that could potentially put him in an even worse position?

She thought of the first thing that popped into her head;

'Yeah. Me too…'

He looked at her.

'Well, aren't we little Miss Modest?' he joked.

What?... No, I mean… I love you too…'

He let out a small smile. She did the same. For once, they understood each other. He got up and walked over to her. She stood up next to him, and gave him a small peck on the cheek.

'So, I'll be on my way, okay?' she said.

'Huh?'

'Well, nothing else for me to do, is there?' she asked. If she helped him, there was always the danger of one of them getting hurt, and always the danger that the night would end like it had that night.

'No… I guess not….' He sighed. He thought exactly the same thing. He didn't particularly fancy having his girlfriend killed just for his job.

And with that, she exited the station.


	14. Chapter 12: Bags

Jonathan watched her leave. He stood in the doorway, and kept watch over her until even her silhouette was unseen. He just hoped that she got home safely. As he watched her remains leave his line of sight, he turned to lock the door up. When he had done so, he realised that he had left his briefcase inside, so he unlocked the door again. He stepped inside. He looked for it, but it wasn't where he thought it was. It wasn't at his desk, so where the hell was it?

He went into the backroom. This was where a lot of the evidence was. It was also where most of the meetings were held. Then he saw it. He walked over to his bag, and picked it up. As he stood back up, something fell out of it. He picked it up, and realised that it was a photograph. It wasn't one of those evidence pictures, but of a woman that was alive. Well, she was alive when the picture had been taken. Now she was just a figment of memory in the back of Jonathan mind. At times, he had been forced to drive it to the back of his mind, and, as a result, he had forgotten about her sometimes. The woman's name was Annabelle, She was a beautiful lady, with long blonde hair, and she always wore dresses that flattered her even more. Unfortunately, Jonathan's wife had been involved in a murder. Now Annabelle was gone, leaving Jonathan to pick up her remains, and become a detective. It had been over three years since she had passed away now, so on the second year, he had decided to start a new life. Unfortunately, things hadn't gone to plan. First the job got boring, then he became so wrapped up in work that he didn't have enough time to do other things, then friend weren't there for him… Then the Ripper case came up. He thought about quitting, but then the girl of his dreams made an appearance. She had gone off with someone else, and he wasn't the in the best state of moods, so he let every single emotion out in three simple words: '_I love you_'. She accepted, but now she has decided to go off.

'She's pretty… Almost like Miss Lisa is!' came a voice behind him.

He turned, but didn't see anyone.

'Show yourself…' he began.

'Why? You already know who I am. Why bother asking? After all, people like you don't go very far in life. Just like that Abberline!' The voice said.

'What are you talking about/ you didn't get him, the drink did!'

'Well, it was me that made him drink so much that night. You know, with all the pressure and whathavyou… The same thing will happen to you…'

'No it won't…'

'Yes it will. It may not be something like drink, but… I don't know, say something like Lisa? Or Annabelle?'

'What about them?'

'I saw how you were earlier tonight. Your _face_ when you saw us… _canoodling_... back there…' it laughed.

'So what about Anna? Jon asked. He was going to forget the Lisa comment.

'She died. I know how. And by whom… Can _you _guess?'

Jonathan got the picture. Jack had murdered Annabelle; his next was going to be Lisa.

'But why do all this?' he asked.

'You're very calm, aren't you? Well, I would do it to get you idiots off my back. For one…'

'And the other?' Jon asked. He braced himself for the answer.

'Maybe I just find it fun…' the voice laughed.

That was it. How could someone find it fun? Cutting innocent women to shreds for personal enjoyment. Jon lunged at Jack. As Jack tried to fight him off, he spoke again.

'Don't tell me that you've never heard the rhyme?' he asked.

'No. And I don't want to, either!' Jon answered, still throwing punches. Jack, being Jack, ignored his plea and started to sing;

'_Eight little whores, with no hope in Heaven,_

_Gladstone may save one, then there'll be seven._

_Seven little whores begging for a shilling,_

_One stays in Henage Court, then there's a killing…_'

Jon blocked out the rest. He had heard it, and hated it. It was cruel, and it was uncalled for. As they continued to fight, the door opened. Oblivious, they both carried on. When the vistitor came in, she just stood quietly, both shocked and confused.


	15. Chapter 12: Emotions and endings

Jonathan was the last one to look. He saw Jack looking up, as if someone was there. Just to be sure, Jonathan snapped his head up. Yeah, it was a bad idea (because Jack could be pulling a bluff), but what if there really was something? And yes, yes there was.

'I leave you for two minutes, and you get into another fight… What the fuck are you trying to do?' Lisa asked, half screaming at them both.

'Um… well…' Jonathan stuttered. What _was_ he doing? He looked down, and saw that one of his hands was pulling Jack's hair. The other was on Jack's chest, pushing him away. Next came Jack's explanation.

'Singing…' he simply smirked.

'Then why have you got your hands around his throat?' she asked him.

'Different teachers have different methods? No, his neck has to be straight, I'm helping him…' he smiled charmingly. Lisa blushed. Jon took the opportunity and flung his opponent off of him. Jack landed in a heap next to the drawing board. Jonathan leapt up, and walked over to her.

'You okay?' he asked sympathetically. He was in two minds whether to ask what she was doing back, but he decided to leave that for a more convenient time.

'Yeah… You?' she asked, with a sigh. Jon decided that this was a good time to greet her properly, with a kiss. As they did so, Jack stood up. He caught sight of the happy couple, and son his mind was swirling with lots of tiny emotions. Well, saying that, they seemed pretty big to him. Envy, jealousy, anger, hatred, indignation… you get the picture. He wanted to get rid of them both. He wanted to kill Jonathan for looking so much like him, for being the detective on his case, everything about him. But more importantly, for stealing his girl from him. Lisa was his, and no one else's. He wanted to kill Lisa for being unfaithful, for going with _that_ bastard… But he also hated himself; he hated himself for not being the man that she wanted, for not being as he should have been, for every life that he had taken…

That last thought stuck to him like he wanted Lisa to stick to him, if not more so. He couldn't shake it off; it was like some sort of parasite that you don't deserve! He forgot all about the very thing that had first caught him with his feelings. He simply walked past them, and out of the door. Lisa opened her eyes. She stopped Jonathan, and just stared at his doppelganger. Once she had seen a vicious monster, then she saw a lover. Now, and lastly, she saw the very figure of sorrow. When her sister had been alive, she often looked like that. Whenever Lisa looked into the mirror and thought of her, she looked like that. Now, Jack looked like that. Like there was nothing left for him, like he was someone on death row, and he wanted to do so much more in his life.

Jonathan was watching at the same time. Although he saw Lisa's pitiful and cheerless face towards Jack, he wasn't angry. In fact, he wasn't even resentful. He watched Jack, and instantly knew that the killer, that he so much hated, knew what he had done. If you had to put it into some kind of word, you could say that Jonathan felt pity towards him. And being the big man that he was, he decided to see if his once-enemy was okay. He walked over to him, and laid a hand on his shoulder.

'You okay?' he asked, with a sympathetic tone in his voice. He shouldn't be doing this, but he only thought that it was right.

Without turning to face him, Jack simply replied with a 'fine'. Clearly he wasn't. Next came Lisa. She walked up to Jonathan, asked for his permission to talk to Jack in private, and scooped him away. She closed the door, but Jon could hear some of what they were saying. He could tell by the tone of his voice that Jack was crying (or very close). When she spoke again, Lisa had the same feeling to her words. When Jon opened the door, Lisa was the only one in the room. He was confused.

'I let him go…' she quietly said, not looking at him (since she was close to tears)' 'You would do the same…'

Jonathan had to agree. With any luck, there would be no more 'Ripping's' (as some people called them). And he was right. For the rest of their days, neither Lisa nor Jonathan heared anything more. Of course, they heard about Liverpool, and America, but they had a gut feeling that it wasn't Jack, only people impersonating him.

And as for the happy couple, they did what any young couple would do; Jonathan retired (who knew that one case like this could pay out so much money?), they moved to the country, got married, had two children, and lived the rest of their days happily. Once or twice, the kids asked about Jack, but their parents simply told them that it was simply a misunderstanding, and Uncle Jack was safely let off the hook. Neither of them really knew what became of their children's godfather. And they didn't want to find out. They simply knew that, even with him gone, he had seriously messed up their minds.

'_Eight little whores, with no hope in Heaven,_

_Gladstone may save one, then there'll be seven._

_Seven little whores begging for a shilling,_

_One stays in Henage Court, then there's a killing._

_Six little whores, glad to be alive,_

_One sidles up to Jack, then there are five._

_Four and whore rhyme alright, so do three and me,_

_I'll set the town alight ere there are two._

_Two little whores, shivering with fright,_

_Seek a cosy doorway, in the middle of the night,_

_Jack's knife flashes, then there's but one,_

_And the last one's ripest for Jack's idea of fun_'

**A/N: Thanks for sticking with me. It's been tough, but I got through it okay. As always, big marshmallow cookies for you lot! Anyway, that little rhyme above is real, and I think that it was actually written by Jack himself. Again, some things I had to improvise, but most facts are real. Obviously, Lisa and Jonathan weren't in anyway involved (that was Abberline), but I think that (by seeing From Hell, and this thing on the Biography channel with Michael Cain), Abberline did turn to drink. I just improvised. All due respect to everyone involved, but this is fanfiction, so some has to be made-up. Just don't sue! Oh yeah, and if you want a sequel, you're going to have to give me ideas and LOTS of time. I've still got to do Invisible to all but you 2!**


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